


It's Not Pain It's Applause

by spectrawaves



Series: These Plates They Smash Like Waves [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst and Tragedy, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectrawaves/pseuds/spectrawaves
Summary: Allison doesn't have much time.As she's laying in Scott's lap, taking laboured breaths and marvelling at the fact that it doesn't hurt anymore, she knows she's dying.
Relationships: Allison Argent & Scott McCall
Series: These Plates They Smash Like Waves [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945249
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	It's Not Pain It's Applause

Allison doesn't have much time. 

As she's laying in Scott's lap, taking laboured breaths and marvelling at the fact that it doesn't hurt anymore, she knows she's dying. 

It's a surreal revelation. To know she's dying; to know that this is it. To know that Scott's eyes are the last she'll ever see. 

It feels fitting. That she gets to lay here in his arms, the arms of the first person she ever loved so much sometimes it felt like it was squeezing all the air out of her lungs. It feels like a good ending, a right ending to this story. To her story, she supposes. 

She doesn't have much time to think about all of it, can feel how quickly she's fading, can see in Scott's eyes the absolute despair that accompanies someone you love dying. 

But it's okay, somehow. It's okay that she's going. 

The vision of Scott above her, looking down at her and crying, seems to flicker in and out. Visions of other things replace it. 

She sees her mother, sitting at the piano and patiently coaching Allison through the notes of Fur Elise, the only song she ever learned to play, the only song she still plays. She sees her father, feels his hands gently correcting her stance as she held her brand new compact bow in calloused, practiced hands. She hadn't needed the adjustment, really, but her father really is one to nitpick. She sees Lydia grinning in a green face mask, her eyes crinkling and cracking the mud around her eyes. 

And then it shifts, the film playing out over her eyes. It changes to the possibilities, the things she might have had if she weren't dying in this moment. She sees herself in a simple white sundress, holding someone's hands and reciting vows. She can't tell who the person is, can't figure out who she'd cast in the role of life partner. And now she'll never know. The thought hurts, but it's distant, and hardly the worst pain she's ever felt. She sees a bundle in her arms, a round little face looking up at her, her vision blurred with tears. She sees a porch with a swing, iced tea in her hand as she watches a little girl playing with a littler boy in the backyard. She sees Christmases and birthdays and Halloweens that she'll never get to live. 

And maybe that's what hurts the most: all the things she'll never get to have. All the things she's losing. Maybe that's what has tears streaming down her face. The fact that memories and future imaginings are playing across her vision, intermingled with the look on Scott's face as he holds her in his arms, his hands covered in her blood. The juxtaposition of her life and her death happening simultaneously. 

But it hardly matters what hurts the most. It starts to not matter at all as her vision starts to darken, as her eyes lose focus on Scott's face. As she dies.

It's unclear when she does; when she finally goes. 

It's peaceful, this state of being. She floats in comforting darkness, knowing it's all over and being at peace with that.

She wonders if this is all there is after death; a timeless, shapeless state without an end or a beginning. She wonders if that disappoints her even as she feels content to float here forever. 

But then all of it solidifies. She feels herself sitting up, feels herself existing where before it had been unclear. She feels the familiar hardness of a familiar rubber seat below her. 

She's sitting on a swing, her bare feet grazing the grass below her. She opens her eyes to a sunlit backyard, a place that she remembers spending hours in. It was the last house she'd lived in before moving to Beacon Hills. 

"Allison?" She hears next to her. And the voice… that voice lives inside of her, lives right up beneath her ribs, resting just below her heart, protected from the world that had taken it from her in the first place. 

She squeezes her eyes shut--tears stinging behind her lids--unsure if she can open them. Unsure if she wants to, and shatter this suspended moment; this moment where her mother is sitting next to her on a swing set in Taos, New Mexico. 

"You can open your eyes sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere." Her mom says, her fingers brushing against the back of the hand Allison is using to grip the chain of the swing. 

The fingers feel warm, and light, and real, and god, Allison never wants to stop feeling their weight. A sob escapes her, a sound of relief and heartbreak and anguish and delight. Her chest squeezes tight, flips over on itself and soars. 

Allison opens her eyes. 

"Hello, my sweet girl." Her mom says, her smile blinding in the sunlight, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I missed you."

Allison sobs. "I missed you too, I missed you so much. I'm so sorry." She can't help saying it, but her mom just places a gentle hand on her cheek, just trails her thumb across Allison's cheekbone, and shakes her head. 

"You have nothing to apologize for. You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." 

A year old ache dissipates, a year old fear of disappointing the person who raised her to be a leader, of failing her. 

Allison cries in earnest, her hand coming up to rest against the one her mom has against her cheek. 

"I love you." Allison chokes out, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, my sweet girl. My precious girl." Her mom says and Allison's other hand comes up to cover half of her face, her tears bordering on hysterics now. 

Because here is the one thing she'd needed: the one thing she'd thought about in her darkest moments, in the moments where missing her mother felt like it was going to consume her from the inside out.

Here is the one thing Allison wanted to see more than anything. This moment, on a swing set in the backyard of the house she'd lived in before everything had changed, makes dying feel a little less final. 

And maybe… maybe this moment is worth dying for. 

Maybe this moment will gift her all the time she needs. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this provides some measure of comfort for the last one. Maybe some closure. It felt like closure to write it.


End file.
